


Venture Out

by SolarMorrigan



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Agoraphobia, Bond is trying to be a good friend, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Q is skeptical, or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-06-22 15:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15585321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: Q doesn't actually live at the office, but Bond hadn't realized how few places he can actually go





	Venture Out

**Author's Note:**

> Older piece with agoraphobic Q. Was part of a bigger idea that never really grew legs, but I thought this part sounded nice enough on its own, so here it is
> 
> Originally posted here as part of a collection, which I've deleted; if you left kudos or a comment on this fic there, please know that I've saved them to look upon and cherish (also, thank you)

“How did you do it, then?” Bond searched his mind for what he knew of agoraphobia – it wasn’t much, “If you don’t go to new places, how did you get to that first meeting with me?”

“I used to frequent the National Gallery.” Q admitted, “It was one of my favorite places to go.”

“Hardly makes for a safe drop site, then, does it?” Bond pressed.

“Usually not, no. But I hadn’t been there for months prior to my appointment as quartermaster. Hadn’t had the time, even before things literally blew up. In fact, it wasn’t until that meeting that I realized my problem had become… much more problematic. When I thought about returning after that, I seized up. I haven’t been back since.”

Bond paused, considering. “Where, exactly,  _can_  you go?”

It wasn’t a cruel question, not the way Bond asked it. His voice was moderated curiosity, face held carefully neutral.

“Home.” Q said after a few moments, “For all I seem to live here, I do go home when I can. Work, of course. I realize it’s not precisely a safe environment, but it’s… an accepted location. I used to be able to ride the tube, but I was discouraged from doing so after becoming quartermaster and it’s just as well because I really don’t think I could manage it anymore. I go to the shop sometimes for groceries, but I mostly just have them delivered – though that’s as much a product of lack of time and energy as it is anxiety.”

Bond waited through several beats of silence before realizing Q had finished speaking. “That’s it?”

“Well it’s not as though I’m a public figure. I don’t  _need_  to go anywhere. I expect M… Mansfield, she might have forced me out and about and it may have worked, but Mallory- M, he has no qualms. In fact, he seems rather content to let me hide in the basement.” Q turned helplessly back to his computer screen, “As long as I attend regular psych appointments and continue showing up for work, it isn’t a problem.”

“And you don’t  _want_  to go elsewhere?” Bond prodded softly, “You’re content, just going home and to work?”

The look Q shot Bond was wistful in a way that suggested Bond now was being cruel. “I used to go to the pub after work with some other members of Q branch. Not very often, but occasionally. I liked stopping for coffee or tea on good days, sometimes. I loved going to the National Gallery. Could spend hours there on my days off.” Q pursed his lips, “There was a wonderful bookstore I would go to. It was pressed up in between a bunch of other buildings, almost invisible, and filled floor to ceiling with all sorts of secondhand books. It was a terrific fire hazard and I adored it.”

The expression on Q’s face was such that Bond almost felt as though he was intruding, it was so openly fond and disappointed in equal measure. It was more emotion than Bond thought he had ever seen on Q’s face, more than the wry amusement and measured irritation, more even than the excited spark that came with being buried in work he loved. That was perhaps the reason for the next thing that came out of his mouth.

“Come get coffee with me tomorrow.”

Q’s eyes snapped back to focus, fixing Bond with an incredulous stare. “Excuse me?”

“You said you liked to stop and get coffee or tea sometimes.” Bond replied, casual as you please, “So come with me and get some tomorrow.”

No response was forthcoming from Q, though not for lack of trying. His mouth opened and closed a few times, throat working around words that apparently wouldn’t come out. Finally, he managed to strangle a few out. “I can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“I- I barely even did that  _before_. It was something I did on especially good days! And now you want me to just suddenly go and get some coffee!” Q’s voice pitched in slight panic, “Without warning, completely out of- out of safe areas, just… out of the goddamned  _blue_.”

“Not quite.” Bond tilted his head, “I asked you to come with me to get some. You said you couldn’t leave your accepted areas because it felt unsafe, so who better than to venture out into the world with than someone who can very much keep you safe?”

Q shook his head. “You completely lost me at ‘venture out into the world’. I’m sorry, Bond, but I don’t…”

“Q, you can’t honestly tell me you want to keep living like this.” Bond insisted.

“And why do you even give a shit?” Q snapped, voice colored by confused vitriol, “My ability to go places, or lack thereof, has no bearing on your life.”

“It might. What if someone has to perform a sensitive equipment drop? You might one day need to get something to me that could save my life.” Bond pointed out.

Q looked rather pale at the prospect. “Moneypenny. She’s qualified to perform such services.” Q all but stammered after a moment, “She’s done it before. And there’s R. If it’s anything Q branch specific. She has clearance to go in my stead.”

“Then what if I just want to give you back your bookstore?”

Again, Q’s mouth opened and shut, the immediate response lost when Q fully processed Bond’s statement. “I’m sorry?”

“Your bookstore, the one you miss. What if I just want you to be able to go again?”

A series of questions and curiosities passed behind Q’s eyes before he settled on the simplest: “Why?”

“I don’t have many friends, Q, but I think it’s generally an accepted practice to try and make one’s friends happy.” Dry wit covered the sincerity of Bond’s statement, but the look that flashed over Q’s face implied that perhaps it had not been covered entirely.

“I… highly doubt this will go well, Bond.” Q told the agent after a few moments, “Just so you know in advance.”

“But you’ll have tried.”

“Well. There is that.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Also posted on Tumblr!](http://solarmorrigan.tumblr.com/post/172073058723/this-was-part-of-a-silly-idea-i-had-a-long-time)


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